


Making Repairs

by Jestana



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jestana/pseuds/Jestana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wyatt met Ambrose before everything went to hell in a handbasket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Repairs

**Author's Note:**

> Another promptfic written back in 2009, this time for "Ambrose, making repairs."

Wyatt cursed under his breath when his truck sputtered to a stop in the middle of the road. "Of all the times and places to do this to me." He climbed out and opened the hood, staring at the incomprehensible array of parts, tubes, and wires in front of him. "What the hell am I supposed to do with _this_?"

He was still staring at the engine fifteen minutes later when a sleek, shiny car pulled up behind his truck. A curly dark head popped out of the driver's side window. "Need a hand?"

"Do you know anything about car engines?" Wyatt asked hopefully.

"Sure do!" The head disappeared back into the car. Moments later, the door opened and the man who climbed out was close to Wyatt's height, but slender to the blond man's more muscular build. He strode to Wyatt's side and peered at the engine. "What happened?"

He moved over to give the man room. "It just died. I have no idea why."

"Let's see if I can figure it out." The stranger began rummaging around in the engine, carefully moving tubes aside and peering inquisitively at what he found underneath. "How long have you been having trouble with your truck?"

Wyatt shrugged, watching the man poke at the engine with long, slender fingers. "A few days. I was hoping to get home before it died on me."

The dark head bobbed thoughtfully. "Which obviously didn't happen."

"Yeah, obviously." Wyatt snorted, shaking his head. "Any ideas on what's wrong?"

The stranger straightened up, smearing grease across his pale forehead as he wiped his hand across it. "Looks like you have a couple loose wires. Give me a moment and I'll tighten them right up for you."

"Sure." He nodded and watched the other man trot back to his car to open the trunk and retrieve whatever tools he needed from it.

Smiling reassuringly when he returned, the dark-haired man slipped his arm in between several of the parts to tighten the wires, the tip of his tongue just barely visible between his lips. After a few moments of fidgeting, the stranger grinned triumphantly and straightened up. "There you go, all fi--ow!"

"Are you all right?" Wyatt stepped closer, reaching out for the man's arm, which was now streaked with blood.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just cut my arm on part of the engine," the shorter man let the taller man take his arm and examine it.

Still holding the pale, slender arm, Wyatt led him to the passenger side of the truck and pulled out his medical kit. "Well, we need to clean it at least. You don't want it to get infected, do you?"

"No, certainly not." The stranger smiled wryly as the blond opened the kit and pulled out some disinfectant wipes and began to clean the cut. "My name is Ambrose, by the way."

He smiled, carefully wiping away the blood and grease from the rather minor cut. "Wyatt Cain."

"Good to meet you, Mr. Cain," Ambrose smiled, watching curiously as Wyatt bandaged the cut with care. "Go ahead and try to start your truck. You should still have a professional look at it, but what I've done should keep you going long enough for that."

He finished taping the bandage in place. "Thank you, Ambrose."

"Wait until you've started the truck at least," the other man told him with a laugh.

Laughing softly in reply, Wyatt moved around to the driver's side, reaching in to try start it. He smiled when the engine sputtered to life. He shut the hood and offered his hand to Ambrose. "Thanks again."

"Glad to help." Ambrose draped a handkerchief over his greasy hand and shook Wyatt's. "Take care of yourself."

He nodded and smiled faintly. "You, too."

Wyatt climbed into his truck and continued down the Brick Route, eager to get home to Adora and Jeb. The trip to Central City had already taken longer than he'd planned in the first place. Yet, he kept glancing at the image of Ambrose's car in his rearview mirror until the road curved and he couldn't see the sleek, shiny car anymore.


End file.
